Monday, July 14, 2003
(1:46 PM) | Adam Kotsko:
An open letter to the guy who brings his wife to the chiropractor at about 9:00 a few days a week
Dear sir,
Let me first acknowledge that I understand the circumstances that bring you to our office multiple times per week, even though you are not yourself a patient. Your wife cannot drive herself, and in any case, you want to be with her as she goes about her daily life, especially when she is receiving treatment for her spinal subluxations. I also understand your desire to socialize with the office staff. In fact, we are gratified that you feel comfortable in our office, since we make our best effort to create a friendly, open environment for our patients and their families.
As you might have noticed, however, I have not been at the front desk as often lately when you've come in, and I have to be honest with you: I am avoiding you. Sometimes I act as though there is urgent filing to be done; in reality, filing is never an urgent priority. Sometimes I go to the bathroom. Failing either of those, I simply stand in the back room until you leave. For that, I feel I owe you an explanation.
Simply put, sir, you annoy the living shit out of me. Your jokes are not simply unfunny, but actively anti-funny. Your "humorous" attempts at making puns based on common foreign phrases are obnoxious enough the first time, and they become more and more so each time you repeat them. Your hackneyed jokes, decades old and long since faded into obscurity and irrelevance, help to create an oppressive atmosphere in the office every time you walk in. Your insistence on calling one of our office staff members "Heide Ho" displays a shocking ignorance of contemporary slang. Your insistence that Heide's name must be "Eve," given that I am "Adam," confirms your abyssmal lack of creativity.
A genuinely humorous comment is welcome in almost any social situation, especially in the relatively superficial relationships that one develops with the staff of a doctor's office. You, however, are obviously incapable of any form of wit, humor, or wry observation. The last attempt you made to develop new material was apparently the purchase of a "joke book" in 1952. Your delivery is as stilted and artificial as that of a prisoner of war reading a statement prepared by his captors.
In short, your very presence makes me long for death.
I hope that explains why I have avoided you for the last few weeks. If you could wait in the car while your wife receives her treatment, that would go a long way toward making my world a better place. In time, we in the office would forget the horror accompanying your actual physical presence and begin to tell each other stories along the lines of "Hey, remember that dumbass who...." Our distant memory of your ineptitude, banality, and idiocy is your best chance at being an object of genuine mirth in our office.
Have a wonderful day,
Adam Kotsko
